


In The Fall of Asora

by Susimau



Series: Asorazey [3]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Air Pilot!Hongjoong, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Anal Sex, Angst, Brother!Yunho, M/M, Mechanic!Jongho, Pathfinder!San, Prince!Yeosang, Revolution, Sidekick!Mingi, Smut, Social Issues, prince!seonghwa, royal guard!wooyoung, woosan if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-22 16:28:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30041496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Susimau/pseuds/Susimau
Summary: The group around Jongho and Yeosang has united to return the energy core they found to its original place. In their way are a greedy king, an army of automatons, and an unknown force of people in between the two cities.To win, they had to bring about a revolution.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kang Yeosang, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Series: Asorazey [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2063241
Comments: 45
Kudos: 42





	1. The Plan

Night settled over Zey like an impervious blanket of black oil. It dawned coldness and shivers upon the people as they hurried to get back into their homes and preserve the little warmth they had. The hurrying bodies through the streets reminded of little screws that disconnected from their original place to hide from the greedy fingers that reached for them. They would come out only once they saw fit again to fill their designated spaces in the clockwork of Zey and continued to hold it together.

Jongho kept his face near one of the turbines in his arm gadget. Its constant turning produced some hot steam that warmed his face. The alley around him hid him from the biting wind that threatened to took all feeling from his face whenever he attempted to challenge it. Deep in winter, no human should dare defy the elements. Anybody who tried expected a cruel surprise that left several bodies in the coldest corners of Zey with each night passing.

Jongho’s daddles were a whole other story. They trembled in the frozen air that created white flowers on everybody’s windows and covered the streets with a film of treacherous ice. As he lifted his palms to put the rest of the papers in his jacket so he could push his freezing fingers inside his pockets, he marvelled at the blue tint that his fingernails had gotten where no gloves protected them.

In ten minutes, the curfew of Zey would fill the streets with murderous automatons that hunted whichever poor souls that didn’t scramble to safety in time. A meeting with them stood not on Jongho’s list of tasks unfinished. He doubted anybody else would approach him to join their team.

He had fulfilled his most important mission. Now, it was time to go home.

After a bit of a struggle, he zipped his jacket up as far as possible and burrowed his face in the collar before he went on his way. Whispering of death and destruction, the icy darkness stretched out its spindly fingers after his back. Jongho didn’t pay any attention. The darkness had long since lost its scariness; he had no reason to fear it. The only thing it produced that he wanted to avoid was the glowing green eyes of the automatons.

Jongho’s body warmed up like a motor that had frozen in winter. The painful progress started sluggishly, but once his sharp steps pumped enough blood through his system, he also didn’t feel cold anymore. His white breath in front of his face made him turn into a powerful steam-powered dragon.

Another night swarmer with a fly rink hurried past Jongho. One second, the mechanic marvelled at the bold choice to wear no hat over his naked skin; the next, the man was already on the ground groaning in pain. The only good the ice brought was to slow down the automatons just as well as the humans. Simultaneously, they took the aim off the Spheres once they slid over it without stopping. More people had died than necessary from stray missiles.

Jongho hurried past the man without comment. A sharp swerve to the left guided him right into the alley he called home. Some blood had returned to his fingers as he fiddled with his keys. As if stabbed by countless needles, they reminded him of his stubbornness to keep them out in the cold.

His house squeezed in between two others and bent from the weight of age and pressure of the elements, greeted him with warmth. Some frost tumbled from his boots when he kicked them against the doorstep to clean them to the best of his ability. He liked to shake off the clinging cold outside and take only himself inside his own four walls. Melting ice could be a fickle companion in corners that liked to grow over with mould.

“Ah, it’s cold.”

Jongho stepped in quickly so he wouldn’t inconvenience Yeosang any longer. With the perfect timing, Jongho’s lover had just been in the middle of changing his clothes when Jongho barged in. His pale skin reacted defensively to the onslaught as goosebumps covered his shoulders. When he noticed Jongho’s eyes on his naked torso, he crossed his arms over it as a custom of protection. Huffing, he twisted his chest away.

Jongho chuckled at his antics as he stepped in. A tiny fire burned in the large pot near the kitchen counter to create a comfortable heat for them to live in and counter the ice on the inside of the windows that slipped through the bad isolation. As if attracted to it like a magnet, Jongho reached out his cold fingers to it. More needle pricks, but he deserved them.

“Don’t get poked up. I can’t imagine a better sight to get home to,” Jongho murmured bemusedly as Yeosang reached for his shirt. At his words, the librarian faltered. Promptly, the cold had never been that bad.

“Oh?” Yeosang rose a dark brow at Jongho. They had coloured his hair two days ago into a deep black. Just how Seonghwa wore it bright now to hide his identity, they had matched Yeosang. Now, hopefully, anybody would have to double-take the two of them before they decided on a judgement.

“Then wouldn’t it be oh so nice of me to greet Mingi with the same sight? It can’t be long until he comes over.”

Feigning a gasp, Jongho dropped his hands as if in shock. Then, he went after Yeosang. Cheerful giggles overtook the man as he ran through the narrow room to dodge Jongho’s fingers.

“Don’t touch me; you’re cold!” His whines were accompanied by too much laughter to be taken seriously. For a moment longer, Jongho chased him through the room before he smoothly caught his wrist. Yeosang stifled his laughter in Jongho’s shoulder, the need to get dressed forgotten when Jongho backed him up against the wall next to his working bench. His flailing arms nearly knocked a spectacle glass from it before they settled on Jongho’s shoulders. He melted against Jongho’s warmly dressed body in a crass opposite of bare skin and a slender form.

“And you’re warm.” Gently, Jongho buried his mask-clad face in Yeosang’s neck. Despite his shivers caused by the cold metal everywhere on Jongho’s body, Yeosang remained receptive to his seeking.

“Did you finish up well?” Yeosang let Jongho rest his tired head on his shoulder as he undid the buckles and buttons of his jacket. Careful, he stripped it off to throw over the back of the single wobbly chair in the room. Jongho’s mask followed, as well as his scarf that was stained with some mud. Unbothered by all the movements, the music bunny seated on the table sung its merry songs while Bricky hopped around the fellow clockwork device curiously.

“I did.” Appreciative of Yeosang’s lean form, Jongho trailed his fingers up his sides. While he despised the leather that separated his skin from Yeosang’s, the man quite liked the touch of the foreign material on his fair skin. His breath hitched in his throat when Jongho’s still cold knuckle caught on his exposed nipple. Upon the chilly touch, the brown nub hardened instantly, and Yeosang shivered from the sensitivity it brought.

“I suggestionise for you to put on clothes now. While Mingi would be absolutely delighted over a greeting such as this one, I would like to spare myself of the jealousy.”

Jongho had been jealous for long enough. Now that he and Yeosang did the bear with each other after so many weeks of waiting, Jongho didn’t see the necessity for another fight. After all, their group had become too close to let such trivial matters disturb their circuit.

Once he had stepped back from Yeosang, the man stuck out his tongue at him childishly and went to snatch his shirt. While he was busy, Jongho left his gloves on the working bench and washed his hands in ice-cold water. Zey had nothing else to offer. The water remained the same temperature as outside all year round, and no season considered it a blessing.

As predicted, San and Mingi joined them a bit later. The two brought another rush of cold with their arrival that, in turn, had Jongho complain this time.

“Close the damn door, Mingi, or I will use you as firewood.”

The tall, red-haired mechanic threw Jongho a grin brighter than a blast furnace in the coal factories.

“Umble-cum-stumble, my dear. Judging by your reactions, you must have hired a lot of allies, didn’t you?”

A smirk played around Jongho’s lips as he rounded San to get the papers from his jacket. He patted the man’s arm in greeting, and San threw him a dimple-dotted smile.

“I did. I actually met a member of one of the larger guilds today. They promised us to watch over Zey in case the king counters with an attack. The guy told me that they have taken apart some stray Spheres they could get their hands on and found a few weak spots on them.” This man, in particular, had been a major character in today’s hirings. After the week, they had given Wooyoung until they would barge into the palace to claim Zey’s survival and equality, they had recruited many allies. Some were solo people from town; others had ties to foreign cities and promised to spread the news about what would happen. The guilds, however, were their best bet locally.

“I might not have befriended a whole guild, but I heard some fascinating news. Apparently, a whole group of rebels formed against Asora a while ago, and they are waiting for the right moment to intervene. We might not get them to join our rather measly cause, but we might give them the incentive to act.”

“You make a stuffed bird laugh!” Jongho claimed in disbelief. He sat down to eat once San had distributed their food with Yeosang’s help. Mingi wildly shook his head. The goggles that hung around his neck rattled.

“I’m speaking the truth! We have yet to introduce Wooyoung to the plan and see for how much trumpery it might hold, but I am confident that even if our failure might dawn upon us, then they might step in to back us up!”

Those were the best news Jongho had heard in a whole week. They had hope surging in his chest and spread its wings like a clockwork bird that took flight for the first time.

The dedication was their largest weapon as of now. But dedication as a weapon was a thing of fairy tales. The possibility to succeed with only the six of them was low, no matter how glorious of a leader couple of Yeosang’s brother, the crown prince Seonghwa and his air pilot Hongjoong had proved to be. However, a group of rebels might change the deck that had been dealt with their unfortunate souls.

“But where are they? Do they hide within Zey?” Yeosang hadn’t let the enthuzimuzzy of the room dazzle him. The cogs behind his forehead reeled with his sharp ideas as he brought a spoon full of rice to his mouth. Quietly, San replied so he didn’t disturb the other two.

“We didn’t find an answer to that. We suspect that this might be Yongguk’s legacy, though, and that this is where his interest in the palace stems from. But that’s only a theory of ours.”

Yeosang’s eyes sought Jongho. As usual, he placed his trust mostly in him and his systematic thoughts. They worked well as a team, especially the four of them, but large decisions still needed a discussion in the company of all their chuckaboos.

“Should we send Bricky to check on that?”

“Even if it’s thanks to him, I don’t think he would join the situation. Let’s focus on the task at hand first and thank him afterwards.”

Mingi took the conversation back to his side. He had been busy stuffing his cheeks with more food than they could hold and collecting every grain of tumbling rice from his clothes. Once he finally swallowed his big bite, he let his narrow eyes travel to each of their faces.

“Now, what if we cross their plans, though? I feel like that might be our doom if we aren’t careful. Or maybe Gizfall uses the situation to attack.”

Jongho nodded darkly as he scooped some more rice on his wooden spoon.

“But we won’t let that happen. The minute the Undying breathes his last breath, Seonghwa will take the throne and notify everybody of the king’s misdeeds. If anybody will be able to balance the situation, then it’s him.”

And so, they spent their last night in Zey before the initiation of their mission that would dethrone the king and connect the two cities back together.


	2. The Leaders

The morning came with chilly temperatures that penetrated Jongho’s skin even through the warmth that Yeosang’s body in his arms spent. When Jongho groggily lifted his head where it had rested against the man’s shoulder, Yeosang also turned to blink at him. Jongho let him lean his head on his arm for a moment longer as he reached over the man to pull the curtain that shielded them the barest bit from the room aside. Coldness hit them like the hand of a petty god that adored winter just for the misery it brought to people. With a whine, Yeosang burrowed deeper into the blanket and pressed against Jongho’s chest. Shivers wracked his body.

As expected, the fire in the pot had long since suffocated in the chilly temperatures, not strong enough to fight its pull any longer. Not even a few pitiful sparks still glowed in the wood. All life had disappeared from it.

“Will it make sense to start another one? Or should we leave it?” Yeosang cleared his throat around his dizzy voice. Tired, Jongho nuzzled into his hair as he rested his eyes for a moment. The soft black curls tickled his cheeks.

“Leave it. We’ll join Mingi’s bunker as soon as possible.” Jongho pulled back from the librarian quickly so he could tuck the blanket around the man’s form before too much cold filled his tightly wrapped cocoon. Then, he ventured over to his desk to strap his gadgets to his form. The two blunderbusses he had built with Mingi’s instructions for him and Yeosang laid on the tabletop, ready to clear the way into the palace. He had finished the last mechanisms needed just the night before, and now they just waited for their use.

Behind him, Yeosang gradually got out of bed, too. With sluggish taps of his feet, he managed to slip into his boots and rose to stretch. His delicate features contorted into a grimace when his spine audibly cracked.

“I hope Wooyoung didn’t run into any troubles. Bricky returned without a new message.” Jongho gently poked the bird in question that sat in between loads of scrap, working utensils, and unfinished projects on his table. At the touch, it whirred to life to cock its head at him curiously. Then, it fluttered over to sit on Yeosang.

“We’ll see soon. Do we know how to get around the Bishops in case he isn’t able to distract them?” Back to seriousness, Yeosang packed his notebook into his bag. He had scribbled in it while Jongho had been working late into the night after their other two friends had left. Upon Jongho’s suggestion to leave the book here for somebody to find in case they would get locked up and fail their mission, Yeosang had shaken his head stubbornly.

“No. If I have to sit in my father’s own dungeon and wait for him to decide how to get rid of me, then this will keep me busy.”

Their group were no fools. They knew just how desperate their mission was and how many people would jump in their way. After this one attempt, there would be no second one, so the hope they currently put in the guilds and the rebels hidden all through Zey was enormous. Jongho didn’t know how Seonghwa could trust a community that was out for his head, and that surely wouldn’t come to aid him. His guess that their hatred fuelled them enough to join a movement once something occurred explained itself, though.

Yeosang and Jongho left his house behind half an hour later. Not knowing when he would be able to return, Jongho securely hid his keys in the depths of his bag.

In the few days Yeosang had spent in Zey, he had already learnt his way around the grimy alleys and wary people. He lowered his eyes to the ground, just like anybody else by now and paid keen attention to his surroundings. His huddled form blended with the dull grey walls and the ever so cryptic shadows that collected the cold. When they passed the oddly shaped lumps of forlorn animals or people on the streets, he didn’t halt to check on them, and his eyes didn’t catch on to their pitiful bodies to try and detects any signals of life.

Jongho knew that the high morals Yeosang held for himself got deeply damaged and found no place here. But as much as he wanted the man to be free and help every person distinguish the sombre sadness in their empty eyes, this was neither the time nor the place for that. And Yeosang understood that, too. If they wanted to help Zey, they needed to install the energy core that was with Seonghwa between the two cities. The only way to reach that was to redirect the flux from the king and thus end his prolonged life.

The idea to kill him didn’t matter much to Jongho. His burning need to avenge his brother and all of Zey’s people that had suffered from the king relieved him of all qualms. Yeosang, however, disliked the idea. He had stopped to deny his father’s fault, but he still sought a more nonviolent way through the middle rather than allowing victims on either side.

But he had grown up in Asora. He could allow himself such luxurious thoughts.

Coming from Zey, Jongho knew perfectly well that life wasn’t always as peaceful as the novels Yeosang liked to read made it out to be.

In case of an option, Jongho would still rather follow Yeosang’s and Seonghwa’s decisions. Those two knew better what they were dealing with than anybody else.

The walk to Mingi’s home finished without a hitch. A few Spheres had crossed them, and both men had tensed up until the automatons had whirred past on their orbs that were heavy enough to crack the ice beneath them and create a trail of destruction wherever they went.

The rest of their team had already assembled in Mingi’s bunker. Mingi and San hurried around busily as they readied all the equipment they might need to transfer it to Hongjoong’s ship. Seonghwa sat at the table drinking tea and going over the building plan with Hongjoong. When Yeosang and Jongho stepped in, the prince threw them a fleeting glance.

“Hey, you two. Anything new from Wooyoung?”

“Nothing. He probably expects six people by tonight.”

Seonghwa beckoned them over to the table. While Yeosang sat down opposite of him, Jongho got the two of them some of Mingi’s bitter tea to warm up their bodies. Like liquid comfort, the beverage coursed through Jongho’s body to give him back his warmth and will to live. Yeosang wrapped his nimble fingers around his mug as he studied the map that spread on the wooden surface like an inconspicuous table cloth.

“We decided to enter the tower. Hongjoong can drop us off there and keep guard from high above. We thought about splitting up since we are such a large group, but I think we might have more chance if we go in at once. According to Wooyoung, the Bishops will get in our way everywhere. Since they are more mighty than us, Mingi designed this.” Seonghwa pointed out the mentioned locations on the map. Then, he nodded at the item that serviced as a weight on one of the edges. Ever since earlier, Jongho had eyed it curiously. Upon Seonghwa approval, he grabbed it to scrutinise it in detail. It resembled a weapon of some sorts, but Jongho found no cartridge for bullets on it.

“It’s supposed to disrupt their energy flows by sending a magnetic wave that messes with the poles in the nethicite. Pretty afternoonified, isn’t it?” Mingi threw a grin over Seonghwa’s shoulder. Infectious as it was, it made Yeosang smile, too.

“A great idea, yeah. But it probably won’t keep them for long.”

“Maybe for long enough to make time to flee, though. We can figure it out there. From what I know, sneaking around them is our best bet anyways since they have far more blind spots than the Spheres have.”

Seonghwa wagged his pen at the mechanic to endorse his proposal.

“Correct, that’s what we are trying to do. In the best case, Wooyoung will find a way to lure them off. They are soldiers, not stationed guards.” Seonghwa rubbed his chin, lost in thought.

“The palace will try to resolve the issue in place and not get people on the outside involved since it could mean that Gizfall hears of it and attacks. Which might make it difficult for the rebels to react when needed. We might get cornered in the throne room.” He tapped the tip of his pen on the largest hall in the palace. To Jongho, the whole thing just looked complicated.

“We will try to escape through the windows if that happens. Hongjoong will stay around, but the rest of us will go in.” His eyes sought Yeosang. All through the week, Seonghwa had attempted to convince Yeosang to withdraw from his current position as a key figure in their coup. More than having him by his side, Seonghwa yearned for safety for his beloved brother. Compared to the rest of them, Yeosang was soft; he wasn’t a fighter. He didn’t have the guts to stomach the dread and trauma and possible punishment that would come with the mission.

Yeosang was strong in his way, strong in his mind and his resilience. In Jongho’s opinion, he centred all of them, but ultimately, he agreed with Seonghwa. Knowing him safe was more important.

“I won’t. I’d come after you if you left me. You want to isolate me from the group to protect me. Let me protect the group by staying in the team.”

Sighing, Seonghwa just nodded. Then, he emptied his tea. When he joined Hongjoong at the open door that led out to the dark depths of the canyon, the pilot offered his hand with a grin.

“Come on, let’s stick to each other. Yeosang plays an important role where you can’t, sweetheart, because for now, you’re proclaimed dead.”

Upon their commando, Mingi and San finished packing, and Jongho also emptied his mug.

“I suppose you’re right. Then let’s go to the ship. And when night comes, we will sneak into the palace.” With that, he stepped out on the rickety hanging ladder that led to the smaller cruiser that Hongjoong had taken with him into the canyon. According to the tales they told, he had been flying around with that thing when Seonghwa had been cruelly shoved over the edge by their father’s soldiers, too. Yeosang treated the vehicle with respect as he stepped upon it.

Knowing of Yeosang’s fear of heights, Jongho stuck around nearby to be able to reach out in case anything would happen. He doubted that the man would go ahead and tumble over the railing made of wooden bars and thick ropes. Still, his presence seemed to alleviate Yeosang a bit.

Once they all were on board the open cruiser, Hongjoong stepped up behind the control panel. He pulled his goggles from his blue hair down on his face to leave his curls a mess and ordered them all to hold onto something. Jongho watched as he pushed down one of the many colourful levers, and they shot forward through the air.

Hongjoong was a specialist in this realm. He understood how to dodge the precarious passage that the canyon was, and he discerned exactly how his speed played into his steering. It had turned out that Hongjoong was the associate Mingi knew from long ago, who had studied physics on the other side of the southern sea. A Zey man who was free like the wind and not restricted to the dogmatic and dirt-covered streets that Jongho called his home.

Mingi stood next to Jongho at the balustrade and stared at Hongjoong with the same wonder on his face. His voice travelled with the wind as he inclined his head down in Jongho’s direction.

“If I knew he would become so much cooler than I, then I wouldn’t have supported his case. He got the engine by the gearbox, is a damn cool pilot, and he got the jammiest bit of jam: the crown prince. I look like a court jester next to him.”

Chuckling, Jongho glanced at Seonghwa, who stood with San on the opposite end of the ship and relished in the wind in his hair.

“Wait ‘till the tripod’s out of the crater. I bet he does even more unexpected stunts once we are in there.”

“He’s main character material,” Yeosang chirped behind them, too.

Now that was good news. Main characters usually survived their stories, as far as Jongho knew. Maybe they were the team of people that would succeed. Even if Asorazey’s main character was undoubtedly their immortal king.


	3. Trespass

The firm metal rope slid over Jongho’s gloves without damaging his skin as he swung down on it. The night sky of Asora was clear and full of brilliant stars that Jongho didn’t get to see often. The cloud of poisonous emissions and agony surrounding Zey was visible even from here, but Asora had no such problem. Even in the night, its white marble buildings shone palely in the moonlight. They didn’t reflect it like in the day, but the stone was still heated and promised comfort and security.

Jongho swished past it all. Past glass roofs that shone like rainbows in the sun, past the golden ornaments that decorated the palace, and past the warm stone. The rope ended in the upmost chamber of the highest tower of the castle. His feet connected with the wooden floor safely, and he immediately ducked to avoid possible attackers that might have appeared in the time that it had taken them to remove the window and open a route. When everything stayed quiet, and nothing moved in the still chamber full of boxes, he exhaled slowly. Then, he motioned out of the window for Mingi to join him.

While the man descended, Jongho adjusted his bulky vest full of equipment. He carried more weapons than usual, and his belt had introduced the addition of two pistols, a bunch of ammunition, and a knife in case he had to fight bodily. The sturdy leather of his clothes was meant to protect him from severe injuries, but he doubted that the pneumatic missiles or whatever horrific weapon the Bishops carried would halt from it.

Despite his chunky boots, his steps on the wooden boards were silent and left no trace.

Inside the boxes were books and clothes, nothing of worth. The parchment had long since yellowed from age, but the dark ink contrasted vividly with it still. Dry and like crunchy leaves, it rustled as Jongho shifted through the objects inside the crates.

Mingi landed with one hand on the rope and the other on his belt, prepared to fire his grappling gun in case anybody saw and destroyed the rope dangling from Hongjoong’s ship. With a few blinks to accustom his eyes to the dark and make out Jongho, he beckoned for the next person to come.

Seonghwa didn’t land just as smoothly and soundlessly as the two mechanics, but nothing moved beneath them. As they waited for Yeosang, the prince stepped over to examine the contents of the boxes.

“These belonged to my mother. It’s a surprise he still keeps them around.”

Jongho watched where he leaned against the wall next to the entrance leading down as he reverently cradled a red dress in his hands to marvel at it. Melancholy permeated his features and brought a rueful smile upon his lips. Respectful, Jongho lowered his eyes to the ground.

“Seonghwa, did your mother die of natural causes? Or is there a chance that this was the king’s doing, too?”

Mingi caught Yeosang in his arms before the man could go tumbling on the ground. The librarian was terrified and clutched at Mingi for a long moment before he could stand on his wobbly legs.

“Her disease was a stroke of fate. If anything, maybe she feared my father and what he had become. But if anybody is responsible for her death, then it was me.” Seonghwa set the dress down delicately and folded the sleeves just as they had been before. Then, he closed the lid to the crate.

“We had a theory when we heard about you two brothers. For a long while, it was said that the king couldn’t bear children, and Asora had no heir because of that. But you two aren’t far from each other in age and completely fine.” Jongho worded the question carefully as not to push the man in sorrow all over again. The grim expression on Seonghwa’s face remained paired with grieving eyes. He hummed thoughtfully.

“There were more, yes. But the king either killed them or sent them into wars - pointless wars, also killing them. If they would have succeeded and conquered other countries, then he would have left them their thrones and praised them with fervour. But mostly, he assigned them to rot. And they knew. But through the years and with no sign of him weakening, there was nothing else they could do but comply.”

Yeosang looked just as surprised and disgusted by that news as the rest of them. So that knowledge was taboo, even in the palace.

“My mother told me this before she died. But usually, people get silenced, or nobody lives to tell the tale.” Seonghwa’s eyes sought the _Puppeteer_ in the skies when San landed in their midst to glance around innocently. High above them, Hongjoong’s hair got thrown around in the wind like a plaything as he leaned over the railing. At Seonghwa’s signal, he rolled up the rope to take off.

“Some people raised suspicions against the king, too. They knew that his having an heir was only ever a farce he upheld. Sometimes, he denied his sons, too. Like Yeosang. He would just let them disappear silently and without a trace as if they never existed. The few heirs that we know of all died tragic deaths.”

“Just like you,” Mingi whispered with chilly understanding. Seonghwa’s grave nod sunk a thick veil of grim determination upon all of them.

“Just like me. I knew what would happen once I discovered all of his dirty little secrets and the amount of blood on his hands. I threatened him to step down and leave things to me, but I couldn’t circumvent the inevitable consequences even through all my safety measures. But luck was on my side.” His tone was final as he brushed the story off. They had talked for long enough, and Jongho didn’t need to hear more. The sheer mention of the king messing with every person of Asorazey and possibly planning to kill off or keep Yeosang trapped until all eternity ignited Jongho’s resolve anew.

With his ears and eyes strained to pick up on any signal in the thick darkness of the tower, he glanced down the wooden stairs. At the yawning silence that greeted him, Jongho nodded at the others to follow. The group soundlessly heeded his orders, and led by Seonghwa, they all sneaked down the stairs. Like shadows in the night, they blended in the dark with their dull clothes and masked features. Jongho went last and kept his eyes on the people in front that were no more than silhouettes from how black the passage was. The tower had no windows, and not even San’s hair was still visible.

They safely passed two more floors. Each time, they spread out in the room to check on the situation while Mingi and Jongho were poised to attack before they resumed. After they had darted down the third flight of stairs, light flooded the dwindling staircase. Instantly, Seonghwa slowed and motioned them to stay alert by raising his gloved hand. The group halted, their ears pricked and pressed against the cold stone wall.

A faint hissing from machines that weren’t Jongho gadgets reached their ears. It came from just a bit further down, and it always remained in one place. A stationed guard, presumably at the entrance of the tower.

Mingi left their formation and pulled his magnetic blaster. With his gun in hand, Jongho sneaked after him as they cautiously descended the last flight of stairs.

The light of the palace corridor broke around the imposing statue of the Bishop. It had turned its back to them as it overlooked a part of the place without ever shifting its gaze in a different direction. The brass of its metal body was polished and gleamed expensively in the golden glow that surrounded it.

Stealthy like a mouse in the pantry, Jongho dashed behind its back and on the other side. In the blind spot of the entrance, he knelt in the alcove and waited.

Mingi stood on the stairs still as he unloaded the weapon. With a whir, it came to life, loading up for several seconds. Alerted, the Bishop turned its head at ninety degrees in the mechanic’s direction. Its glowing blue eyes illuminated the shadows of the tower eerily as it stared at Mingi, unblinking. Just when it rose its arm to turn Mingi’s body into a piece of cheese, the weapon fired.

A stutter went through the machine as if one of its cogs had frozen, and the whole system suddenly didn’t circulate anymore. The scarily human skull of the huge machine wobbled and shook as if ready to break off. And then, the bright blue glow went black from one second to the next.

Seizing his chance, Jongho jumped forward. His strong arms pulled additional power from his machines as he pulled himself up on the shoulders of the stunned creature. Then, he plunged his gloved hand into the mess of wires and cables that had been lit with nethicite energy earlier but had now died out. Brutally, he pulled on the two thick tubes that ran from the sturdy back to the horrific skull to connect with the metal set of teeth that had been a gruesome design choice. They came off with a crunch of metal snapping, and he dug around some more, ripping everything that looked important to him.

The Bishop didn’t collapse, which was a gift from the heavens since the noise certainly would have alerted many more of them, but it did sink its head on its chest once it lost all connection to its power core. Triumphant, Jongho jumped down from once it stopped all spasms. He and Mingi paused for a moment, expecting a sudden turn of events. When nothing happened, both of them breathed out audibly. As Mingi went to fetch their team, Jongho discreetly stepped around the mighty Bishop that made him uncomfortable by its presence alone to peek into the corridor.

They were currently in the eastern wing of the castle, on the same side that Yeosang had lived in. These hallways were familiar to both princes and Mingi, and by extent, also Jongho. Jongho detected one more Bishop in a corner and nearly hidden from sight as it guarded the juncture of two paths.

Wooyoung was on the floor beneath them. They needed to get to him first and then see how they could get through the main building's countless guards. Since this was only the additional complex, the supervision didn’t spike too much after Seonghwa’s disappearance.

When Jongho felt a body behind him, he moved back to regroup with his team. All of their eyes were fixed on Seonghwa, anticipating their next orders. Still, everyone glanced at the Bishop now and then as if they had to make sure it wasn’t going to light up again. The mess of cables in its nape seemed to satisfy them only partly.

“We’ll take the stairs down since I don’t want the machines to alert the Bishops. Once Wooyoung joins our team, we will pause to think about the next step. There are several possible options for how we could infiltrate the main complex, but I would like to consult our friend first.”

Nodding, they left it to Mingi and Jongho to clear the path. They shut off the machine around the corner without much trouble since it stood so conveniently. Then, they crept down the stairs and found two other Bishops with their rears to them. Clearly, they weren’t foreseeing an initiative from above.

Sweat covered Jongho’s body by the time they arrived in front of Wooyoung’s chamber. The stealth mission strained his nerves, and the perseverance he had to practise at his every move got more difficult the more time passed. The break he took to rest against the wall on the left of Wooyoung’s gateway while Mingi stood on the right was heavenly.

Yeosang shyly rapped his knuckles against Wooyoung’s door. Nothing around them shifted; no glowing Bishop was still in sight. Seonghwa and San stood nearby tensely. They all arranged for an ambush from Wooyoung’s room, expecting him to be accompanied by two Bishops, or maybe the king himself if he had gained knowledge about their ploy.

However, the man who opened the door hesitantly was the same person Jongho had spotted a few weeks ago when he had saved Yeosang from that window of his. At the sight of Yeosang, his eyes went wide.

Without another second to wait, Jongho rushed in to put a hand on his mouth and push him further inside his chamber. The rest of the team followed, and San closed the door behind them while Wooyoung hung in Jongho’s grip like a defeated bunny.

Once they were in the clear, Jongho nodded at him in apology and stepped back. Wooyoung took a shuddering breath as he viewed their situation. When his eyes got stuck on Seonghwa, his mouth dropped open in a little o.

“We can give you a quick summary of everything that has happened. Will you be able to help?”

Wooyoung didn’t need to hear Yeosang’s story to nod, unrelenting.


	4. The Mask Falls

Jongho hadn’t expected the feeling of deja vu to wash over him in the palace of all places. His unfamiliar surroundings ordinarily called for confusion rather than any sense of belonging. Yet, as Wooyoung sat on his bed and monitored Yeosang’s story with his outgrown hair neatly pushed behind his ears, the way his eyes kept wandering to San nearly caused hysteria in Jongho.

San just stood there with his brown jacket and black gloves, looking as average as it could get if they oversaw his hair. And yet, the royal guard couldn’t seem to rip his lingering gaze off him for even a moment.

Not that Jongho didn’t understand. San was an attractive man, and his charms trapped many people in the beautiful net that he spun. But Jongho’s former jealousy resurfaced when he remembered how doting Yeosang had looked at the very same man. How Jongho had to learn for the first time what it meant to be envious of another person and how bitter it had made him.

Yeosang ended his speech as soon as possible without leaving out too much information. The essential bits already created a story to believe. Sometimes Wooyoung gasped surprisedly when the strewn around compartments in his mind came together to create the horrendous machine that the king was.

Once Yeosang lowered his eyes to the floor mannerly to leave Wooyoung some space to think, Jongho also tensely crossed his arms. Seonghwa had aided the story whenever needed and added relevant pieces that Yeosang forgot. The silence of the two princes penetrated the room’s thick tension.

“That’s a lot to take. But I’m afraid there’s more.”

Curious, San tilted his head when Wooyoung’s eyes fluttered around the room to look at all of them once. Mingi seemed to intimidate him with his blank face and tall stature. With their heavy equipment and stubborn eyes, the troop probably resembled savages to the little palace boy, but the two princes' well-known faces seemed to alleviate him.

Shadows cut Yeosang’s pale skin with obscure edges as he leaned forward, ready to listen more.

“I- You said you shut off some of the Bishops. Is there one nearby?”

At their slow nods, Wooyoung rose and dusted his jacket off. He beckoned Yeosang to follow him, but the jittery gesture included all of them.

When Wooyoung strode to the door where San was leaning in case of an emergency, his steps slackened. As if he didn’t dare to get too close to the pathfinder, Wooyoung rigidly avoided his eyes as he reached out his hand for the doorknob.

San regarded him with a patient smile curling around his lips. As expected, he enjoyed flustering people.

Yeosang joined Jongho at his side to whisper to him as they followed Wooyoung.

“What do you think of him? Any alarm bells going off?” Yeosang’s deep voice sounded like music to Jongho’s ears. Never before, he had considered music as something necessary or something he related much with. Music was luxurious, and the people who made it were carefree and had their heads in the clouds. A privilege that Zey didn’t have. Still, he seemed to have developed a taste for it. He liked how it caressed his ears.

“He fidgets a lot, but I think he’s just nervous. He helped us before, too, so I think we will be fine trusting him. If not, we will hopefully be able to overbear him as the five people we are.”

Chuckling, Yeosang brushed his shoulder against Jongho’s in the faintest touch that they dared before he sprung off to walk beside Wooyoung. Jongho made sure to keep track of their surroundings in case somebody suddenly popped up to shake a flannin with them. At the lack of movements or sounds outside of their group, he relaxed only partly. While Seonghwa had assured them that the eastern wing was basically abandoned anyway and he had been the only one to regularly raise dust in the passages, Jongho remained on edge.

Yeosang led Wooyoung to the pair of automatons at the bottom of the stairs. The metal guards stood frozen and towered over them by a head or two. Their glass eyes were dark, and no light shone behind the bulging lenses. Jongho kept an eye on them, wary if they might abruptly come back to life.

“I learned of this only recently, and I don’t know if it’s important, but I figured it might be significant knowledge,” Wooyoung murmured under his breath as he stepped around the automatons. He wasn’t shy around them, probably because they recognised him. Jongho still wondered how they had accomplished that the machines were programmed to attack only certain people. The Spheres were different. The Spheres obeyed the commands the military put into their panels and shot at anything that moved in the dark. But the Bishops recognised faces, a groundbreaking modern method in Jongho’s books.

Wooyoung stretched his body as he attempted to touch one of the tall Bishops' neck. However, his movements didn’t quite reach where he needed to be, and for a moment, he studied the stairs and the Bishop, lost. Did he need help to move them over?

“I’ll get a chair; excuse me for a moment.” Just when Wooyoung whipped around to fetch a stepping tool, San stepped up. In an offer, he turned his back to Wooyoung and knelt on the floor.

“Need a hand?” His fingers gently patted his shoulders to show what he meant.

Mingi whistled when Woooyung blushed a whole plethora of red shades. Then, he carefully straddled San’s shoulders. When San wrapped his hands around Wooyoung’s thighs to hold him and stood up, Wooyoung’s hands flew to his hair to hold on. A chuckle escaped San’s lips as he got to his feet without too much trouble and walked up to the automatons. Jongho had to give the man credit for how fearlessly he faced the metal devils.

“Give me a second. Please tell me if I get too heavy, alright?” Busy fiddling with some hinge on the junction between the automaton’s head and the torso, Wooyoung still spared a moment to glance down on San worriedly. Grinning, San just held on tighter.

“You’re fine. Go on.”

Yeosang and Jongho exchanged a glance that held mirth at their antics. When Yeosang was the one to roll his eyes fondly, Jongho smiled privately behind his mask.

Before he could get lost in the thoughts of how good Yeosang looked with black hair that complimented his fair skin and the colour of his lips, a little click sounded. Keeping his praises for the shuffling prince for later, Jongho fixed his eyes on Wooyoung again. The man made an effort and strained for a moment, enough to have San shift his feet to catch the onslaught of alterations. Then, the head of the Bishop came off with a resounding crack. Jongho just wanted to raise a confused brow when he froze at the sight underneath the head.

Or rather, a helmet.

“Here, uh- Please put me down.”

Promptly, San complied before he retrogressed with awe to look at the Bishop. Wooyoung watched him shyly, but their moment wasn’t of importance anymore. Much more important was the person inside the Bishop. A real human with a pale face and closed eyes sat in the automaton as if it were armour. The man seemed to have lost consciousness, or maybe he was also dead.

“A human?! They all carry humans?!” Shocked, Yeosang stared at Wooyoung. At the man’s jerky nod, his face noticeably whitened.

Seonghwa was the first to piece the puzzle together.

“So this is his new army. A bunch of people still, but in mighty suits. Is the man dead?”

Wooyoung rubbed his neck in distress as he nodded. Without thinking, he handed Mingi the massive helmet he was still holding when the man approached him.

“Yes. They are wired with the suit, and the second the suit gets destroyed, they die since they are hooked to its machines. A technique to keep an enemy from gaining attention or being able to replicate the suit in case of a battle, I think.” Fidgeting, he glanced around to make sure nobody would catch them out in the open.

“And his identity?”

“He’s from Zey.” Shameful, Wooyoung ducked his head. Even as Jongho’s mind supplied him with the reminder that this was in no way Wooyoung’s fault, hot anger ignited in his chest to eat an ugly hole into his heart.

“They offer people an alternative, a well-paid job in the palace. Those asked, take it, but this is where they end up — fresh meat for the new army. Most of them don’t mind since they get a fancy suit built to have them survive, but… It seems wrong to ask them instead of our soldiers. The king sacrifices those whom he doesn’t care about.”

The revelation wasn’t new to the group, but Wooyoung spat it out bitterly. So he had trusted, too. The intrigues in the palace hid well from people’s eyes to fester in the darkness.

Just like Zey. Asora was just as vile and treacherous as Zey.

Jongho nearly laughed at that thought.

Yeosang rubbed his arms as if the thought chilled him.

“And I presume they all received the order to kill anybody who is not part of the royal court as of the present situation?” Seonghwa continued his interview with a harsh voice, and Wooyoung approved, intimidated by his dark brows that had settled into a frown of fury.

“The thought that they are wired is scary. I think they might make sure there are no survivors by the time they won the war. Even if to make sure nobody tells on them.” The chilly declaration from Mingi prompted a dark inclination from Seonghwa.

“Sounds right. Another secret unveiled. My father can’t seem to stop aggravating everything. We’ll try to free as many of these people as possible once we took care of him. No more than needed should die.” He motioned at Mingi to put the head back on the automaton so they wouldn’t cause any suspicion. Mingi could reach well enough now that he knew what they were doing.

They retreated to Wooyoung’s room afterwards. The little chamber barely enough place for all of them to pile in it and Jongho used the moment to lean more into Yeosang than necessary as they sat next to each other. Their closeness brought the warmth and the pleasant scent of the other man that Jongho enjoyed so much.

“We could go in through the servant’s door. It’s on the back of the main building, and we would have to cross the gardens and the kitchen to go in, but we might blend in with the other people and use them as an excuse not to get shot at,” Wooyoung offered as a secret route inside. However, Seonghwa shook his head.

“Too many people. I would rather we keep away from any fighting and not pull innocents in, too.”

“Then how about the windows of your chambers?”

Yeosang stayed quiet during their brainstorming together with San and Jongho since he had too little plan of the palace outside of his chambers to judge well. Surprise crossed their features when Mingi also joined the discussion, though.

“How about we slip in the suits outside and go there ourselves? Jongho can probably power them up again.” A bold claim, but Jongho was willing to try if so obliged.

“A good idea, but it will be suspicious. They all follow their orders, and just marching in would make us even more questionable. Even if it would be great protection against bullets of all sorts.” Wooyoung gave him a weak smile.

Seonghwa tapped his foot on the ground as he pondered the possibilities and which one would hopefully do the least damage. If the room weren't so small, he would probably pace it like an animal in a cage. His gloomy desperation infected all of them.

“I’d suggest we have Hongjoong ram his ship right into the windows of the throne room, and we jump off to unplug my father’s life support and flee, but I think that isn’t the smoothest sneaking technique we could come up with. So let’s try via my chambers. I presume they are empty right now?”

Responding instantly, Wooyoung pointed the path out on the map in front of them.

“Then you would leave to the gardens from here and break back in over there. Since I’m not endangered, I can take the normal route and spy out how many guards are on our way. And then we cross the corridors down to the throne room.” His fingers found the large hall that was the centre and heart of the palace and the target they tried to hit.

Satisfied, Seonghwa rolled the map back together and put in in the tube that San carried on his back.

“Let’s try. I don’t doubt we’ll have to fight, but we came prepared.”

Wooyoung snatched a hair tie from his dresser and put his unruly locks in a little bun. Some forgotten strands still hung into his fox-like eyes, but he already looked a lot more competent than before. On his commando, they all filed out of the room to stop all the rotten power plays in the castle by cutting the problem off by its head.


	5. Two Princes

Yeosang had once told Jongho that he was no prince.

He had also once questioned if Zey’s people had no moral compass for not helping those in need, claiming that Asora’s people were far quicker to assist.

And yet, as they walked through the spacious white marble corridors of the palace, Jongho couldn’t help but remember those words for the message they had conveyed.

Yeosang was a prince. He might not have been one on the paper because of his heritage, and he might never have been acknowledged as such, but he was a prince, undoubtedly. As he darted through the halls to check on their surroundings, he carried himself with the intensity and resilience that the people needed in a ruler. No lie passed his attentive eyes, and not even a little minor detail got ignored. The behavioural similarities between him and Seonghwa were uncanny, and if Seonghwa could be called a crown prince, then Yeosang could be one, too.

Being a prince wasn’t all about heritage and blood laws. Sometimes, it was just about the man behind the acts. And compared to the bastard of a king that currently ruled their lands, Jongho would support the man who specifically pleaded with them to dodge the automatons so they wouldn’t have to kill a single person any day. He knew that the bloodshed was inevitable, but Yeosang’s hunt for truth and justice rivalled Seonghwa’s.

Jongho didn’t know where their mission might lead. They might get captured most likely, or they could lose their battle and their lives. The little possibility of winning this fight seemed inadequate even to consider, but Jongho couldn’t help but wonder what would be afterwards. Once the clockwork of Asora halted, and the wheels stopped turning, what would happen? Would the people accept the rerouting they were planning? Would they accept a new king as their core? Enough of Zey’s people despised Seonghwa, and once Yeosang’s identity would promulgate, they would shun him, too. Their gamble didn’t just shape the hope of Asorazey; it would also decide what would happen to their group.

That day determined how the two princes would judge over their father and what role they took on. Just how the Undying had blood on his hands to gain the throne, they would, too.

Jongho was shaken back into the moment by Yeosang, who fell into his arms from the window above. They had arrived in the gardens to breach the masses of automatons that lit the area with their glowing blue eyes and stood rigid. As he soundlessly set Yeosang down on the ground, the prince eyed Jongho worriedly. Yeosang’s eyes were shadowed by deep circles that prove the lack of sleep in the past week. Still, his beauty had yet to flee him.

When Jongho nodded at him wordlessly, the prince stepped over to Seonghwa to press against the wall. They were as far out of reach of any nearby automaton possible, and the fact that they stared up ahead against the palace fence also made it easier to pass by them.

It made sense. After all, they were no more but a pretence for the king to show off his might. He had no murderers he protected himself from. The farce had begun after he had attempted to kill Seonghwa and maintained for the people of Asora to assume that the royal family was indeed in danger.

San stalked next to Jongho like a wild cat on its hunt for prey. His agile body moved fluidly under his clothes, and no movement around him evaded his keen senses. As a duo, they snuck past the first three Bishops. Empty and without a will, they stayed rooted in the spot to stare up ahead. No noise reached them.

Jongho’s heartbeat thrummed in his ears as he ducked behind another bush. In his life, he had crept around a whole lot - and got called a meater in return - but the prospect of making a huge moral mistake if he were to defend himself weighed him down. Killing humans was an easy thing to do. Jongho usually didn’t heed the rules and norms that forbade him from it when he saw it necessary. This time, however, he had made a vow to Yeosang. And he wanted to keep it.

With a quick point of his finger to another bush up ahead, San motioned Jongho to go. The two of them scanned out the route so the others could follow it with lesser disturbances. Originally, Jongho wanted to stay with Yeosang if something would happen to him, but that wouldn’t be possible.

Seonghwa was directly behind them, and once they reached the point where they needed to be, he beckoned them to halt. Crouched behind one of the mighty automatons, Jongho peered up at the windows above. With their grappling hooks, it would be no issue to reach it, but the noise they created most likely alerted the three automatons in their surroundings.

Jongho motioned Seonghwa to stay back and remain hidden. Then, he pulled the magnetic gun that Mingi had handed him earlier. As predicted, the automaton turned its mighty torso towards him with the horrible screech of metal scratching against metal. Jongho jumped back when a huge hand reached to grab him and fired against the Bishop’s chest. Instantly, it powered down. Not bothering to check on the dead man inside, Jongho scaled its back to rip the cables that would keep it from recharging in a few moments.

His sudden acts had alerted the other two automatons of his presence. San was already on the back of one pulling on its cables when Jongho fired at the last one. Their large and chunky bodies made it difficult to act fast, and their weapons needed a long time to charge, too. He bet that for a big war, they would march over the lands and stomp everything to ashes and dust. They were horrible guards, though.

Once Jongho had shut off the third one, they sat still for a moment, listening. A few birds disrupted the silence of the night, and somewhere further up, he could hear voices. Seonghwa had mentioned that the main palace building had lots of actual human guards that actually served as security and were able to act fast. They were mixed with the automatons, however, so that part would be the most finicky.

When no noise sounded, the window above them opened with a subdued click. Wooyoung peeked down on them and the situation. Then, he motioned Jongho to throw him his hook. Unsurprisingly, the idea of him walking the palace with a big rope in his hands had been declined for suspicions on people getting wary of him.

A moment later, Wooyoung held the rope safely in his hands and fastened it nearby the window. San swung up the palace walls first and without issues as his powerful legs brought him up. A little squeak travelled outside when he appeared in the window faster than Wooyoung had accounted for. Once he was gone, Jongho ushered Seonghwa over.

San gave the prince an aiding hand despite barely knowing each other, and Seonghwa took it without hesitation.

Next, Yeosang snuck from the bushes over to where Jongho stood. Jongho’s dark eyes were watchful of him, but he scaled the rope without much of a hassle. The time they spent in the canyon had gotten him used to work with whatever steep wall he encountered.

Mingi and Jongho went last and took the rope with them. The chamber they found themselves in was large and had a high ceiling. Seonghwa’s room was dense with gold and expensive blue velvet covering the couches and his cacophony bed. Despite the amount of splendour that nearly induced a gag from Jongho, however, the crown prince didn’t halt to reminisce. Rather, he seemed foreign to his own quarters.

“No guards are outside here, but the closer we’ll get to the throne room, the more there will be. The king is currently having his meal.” Wooyoung’s hushed information travelled through the dimly lit room. Only the pale moonlight streaming through the high windows lit the scene, and Jongho was glad that he could make out the furniture before he would knock into something.

“Jongho, please hand me Bricky,” Seonghwa asked just as quietly. While Mingi lit a little lantern for him to write to, Jongho got the little bird from his bag and activated him. He also shifted the peg that connected to the music box aside so the bird wouldn’t start singing in their tense circumstances.

Seonghwa promptly wrote a message to Hongjoong before they sent the bird on his way. With a single blow of air, Mingi blackened out the room again.

“The plan is to silence the guards and get entry to the throne room. I doubt that father is able to defend himself. We’ll destroy whatever attaches him to the dynamism. Then, Yeosang and I stay to take care of the mess while the rest of you flees. The court knows us, but they will see you as a threat. Hongjoong will come to pick you up. Wooyoung, you can stay, too.”

In the dark, Mingi and San nodded seriously. Jongho felt Yeosang beside him shift to press their shoulders together in a tiny gesture of support. Their warm bodies found comfort in each other’s presence without their attention ever shifting.

“Once we figured things out here, we’ll get back to you. I might take a few days.”

The uncertainty of their project had all of them on edge with nerves. If they were to trust anyone’s word, it was Seonghwa’s, but he couldn’t possibly foresee two cities' reactions. If Gizfall were to take advantage of the news of the Undying’s death, anguish would envelop all of them and cross out their plans.

“What if the news of you being bolted and volted urges them even more to try and kill you?” Mingi whispered in the dark. For a long moment, Seonghwa stayed silent.

“Then we will attempt our best to stop them.”

Yeosang audibly exhaled. His breathing was shaky, showing the barest bit of the fear they all suffered at the moment. Their little group was hopeless against the fate that the higher forces would bestow on them. Jongho didn’t believe in a god; he believed in science. And he hoped that science would save them.

“Then let’s go,” Wooyoung called the commando first. His steps led them over through the big room and to a door that Jongho wouldn’t have seen in the murky shadow. Used to wandering, Wooyoung gingerly pulled it open to peek into the corridor before he motioned the others to follow.

If Jongho had thought that the east wing of the castle gleamed with expensive luxury, then the main building revised that feeling tenfold. Golden lines rounded the square flagstones of white marble. Grand pillars rounded by just as shiny decorations carried a ceiling nearly too far up for Jongho to notice. The floor was covered by a thick red carpet that dulled their steps and was free of any speck of dust.

Now and then, an exotic tapestry or a painting of old kings and their families hung from the wall. Little tables that carried vases full of colourful and fragrant flowers dotted the corridor.

Just as astonished as Jongho, San and Mingi also looked around with big eyes. Zey would be able to live forever from all the money that these possessions were worth. Money in figures so high that Jongho’s understanding didn’t reach them. In passing, he glanced down a glass cabinet that held ancient daggers and a book written in a language that wasn’t theirs.

Yeosang looked uncomfortable in his surroundings as he followed Seonghwa and Wooyoung. The tall crown prince fit right in, as expected, and held himself with regal superiority, but Yeosang sneaked with the group of thieves and lawless savages as if he were one of them. Foreign in his own home.

The heavy smell of food permeated the air from downstairs. Busy voices travelled between the floors and made Jongho jump whenever they came closer to disappear behind one of the many doors.

Even the doors had golden ornaments.

Once they found the next corner to hide behind, Wooyoung gave them a signal to halt. Guards were up ahead, four humans and a Bishop whom they poked fun at. Wordless, the person in the armour let them.

Wooyoung joined them with a relaxed giggle that concealed the adrenaline in his veins.

“Hey, I was just sorting through the prince’s stuff, and you wouldn’t believe what I found there! Wanna take a quick peek?”

Immediately, the guards laughed with him. They didn’t seem too worried about intruders with the guards outside and living in Asora, where crimes were not an issue. And why fear Zey’s inhabitants since they shot them all down at the canyon?

As soon as Wooyoung rounded the corner with three of them in his company, Jongho lunged to snatch one. As he knocked the man out with the butt of his pistol, San and Mingi did the same. Worried, Seonghwa and Yeosang stood nearby to watch the unconscious men drop to the ground.

Then, they went to let the next disappear. Their mission would take forever, but it protected them.


	6. Diamonds

The tension of the team was a drastic opposite of the carefree and unbothered behaviour of the palace’s inhabitants. Seonghwa affirmed to them that the laughter and joyful conversation they heard from downstairs was anything but real. The working people in this place had learned to shut off their eyes and ears at the right moment, and their silence was the only protection they could uphold.

Jongho believed that they had everything accounted for. They crept over the carpet soundlessly and glimpsed around every corner before they proceeded. When a door next to them opened at once to spill guards over them like the plague, Jongho stood petrified with surprise for a moment. Nobody dared to move, and the guards looked at them just as puzzled as they were.

Until suddenly, they all moved in unison.

The first man went down when Jongho’s heavy body hit him, and another one got apprehended by Seonghwa and Mingi. However, the third slipped through San’s fingers and wrestled with Yeosang instead. Another one grabbed Seonghwa from behind as if his life depended on it, while the last one stood, bewildered, and looked between Wooyoung and the way they had come from.

“What’s going on here?! Who are these men? Did you get taken as a hostage? Also, that guy looks eerily familiar…”

Jongho’s fist connected with the face of his offender as they crashed against a wall. In a mess of limbs and shouts, they floundered around. The other groups were off none the better, and Jongho’s muscles strained from the effort.

“Grab him, Wooyoung! They are getting too loud!”

Mingi hissed at the guard as he and San tried to free Seonghwa from the guards’ clutches. Both of them kept sending hectic glances at Yeosang, who struggled as he got pushed against a wall.

This was finally the message that the guard needed. Jongho was struck in the stomach when his escaping distracted him momentarily. He groaned around the pain before he hit back with his metallic fist.

“Go after him! Anybody who can, quick-” He didn’t get to pull his gun and do it himself because the man holding him grabbed his wrist before that. Huffing, they fought for the upper hand.

From one moment to the next, the once pristine corridor got defiled by their ruthless fists and dirty tricks. Unsurprisingly, Jongho and Mingi finished with their opponents first. As Jongho lunged to help Yeosang in his desperate cries, Mingi sped off to try and catch up with the other guard. However, just when he wanted to round the corner and Jongho freed Yeosang’s hair from the guard’s grip, a horrified squeak sounded from Mingi.

“What is it, shoot him before he-” Wooyoung froze in his speech when he saw what the rest of them were seeing.

Three automatons, coming from the right where the man had run left. Their dead eyes focused directly on Mingi and lit his face with pale blue light as they stared down at him like the horrendous abominations that they were.

Time froze for a moment. As if its clockwork had slowed its steady movements or a hand had gotten stuck between two cyphers. Jongho barely registered how he let go of the guard, and his legs sprung into action to reach Mingi.

But he was slow, far too slow. While time had halted for them, it also continued with a speed that was beyond Jongho’s understanding right at this moment.

The automaton closest to Mingi rose its arm, and the blue veins in it lit up when its pneumatic weapon charged. From this close, nothing of Mingi would be left in a few seconds.

And Jongho couldn’t get there. He just couldn’t. And the screams of his friends behind him also didn’t save Mingi.

Fate made its path when the arm rose and reached the height of Mingi’s head.

Jongho’s feet came to an abrupt halt that nearly had him topple over when the weapon discharged. But it didn’t fire at Mingi. It fired at something down the corridor to the left. The sickening dull sound of a body dropping echoed in the hallway. It resounded with the bang of the weapon and tingled in Jongho’s ears for a moment.

Startled and doubtful, they stared at the automatons. Had they recognised them? Did the Zey folks disagree with seeing their people suffer?

“Jongho! Get Yeosang, quick!” Seonghwa’s strained voice was either part strained and relieved. Instantly, the mechanic forewent all of his worries as he charged back to his lover. The guard had attempted to drag him into one of the nearby chambers, but Jongho made quick work of him. Finally, their enemies were subdued and laid on the ground without resistance. The Bishops' sudden action had shocked them, too, and Jongho counted it as a win.

Yeosang trembled like a leaf in the wind when Jongho pulled him into his arms. Soothing, his fingers brushed through the man’s hair and over his back.

“Shh, it’s fine. No worries. You’re fine.” He pressed a little kiss, everything he dared, into Yeosang’s hair and held him through his tremors.

When he inclined his head to keep an eye on the Bishops while he held the librarian, another evil surprise awaited him. And this time, it struck him right in the chest.

All three of the Bishops had taken off their helmets. The centred one who had shot sighed as he pulled the thing off and took in the situation. When he turned his head in their direction, Jongho stumbled back from Yeosang as if electrified.

He didn’t even notice how Yeosang worriedly looked at him, how the sudden loss of warmth impacted his chest. Insecure, his feet carried him backwards until he tripped over a body on the floor. Roughly, he bit his cheek as he lost all sense of direction for a moment.

Jongho had fallen on his behind. The shock rendered his legs useless and numbed his fingers that lost all sense of the soft carpet beneath them. His face felt white as a sheet, and he didn’t doubt that he would see a ghost if he looked in the mirror right now. Without wavering, his eyes fixed on the person in the suit of the Bishop that had turned to order his other two companions around.

Yeosang fell to his knees next to Jongho to fret over him.

“Are you alright? Jongho, say something! Are you hurt anywhere?” Nervously, his palms trailed over the mechanic’s form in an attempt to discern the possible wounds or blood from his dark clothes.

Seonghwa helped a groaning Wooyoung to his feet before they gathered the attention of the Bishop on themselves. With hushed voices, Seonghwa explained the situation. The Bishops listened to them with no signs of hostile engagement.

Yet, all Jongho could do was stare emptily. His heart threatened to jump from his chest from how hard it was pounding.

“H-He-” His soundless whisper caused a worried frown to etch in Yeosang’s pretty features. Concerned, he beckoned Mingi over without ever letting go of Jongho as if he would collapse without his aiding hand. Maybe he would. He didn’t trust himself anymore.

“What’s wrong?” Mingi also patted his back. As he followed Jongho’s gaze, his lips turned downward.

“Did he hurt you? Is he a threat?” Immediately, he stood and cracked his knuckles, ready to take on the tall man. However, as he seemed to scrutinise the Bishop to find a weak spot, his hands faltered. In the same manner as Jongho, he eyed the dark hair, wildly gesticulating hands in the heavy suit, and his young face.

“Wait a second. This can’t be…”

Yeosang crouched between them, clueless and entirely overwhelmed by the situation. Finally, San caught up with them, too, to check on Jongho’s fallen figure.

Before anybody had a second to react, Mingi’s heavy steps thundered over to the man. Like an angel of death, he pushed Wooyoung and Seonghwa aside to square up in front of the Bishop. The bright light above them ignited his hair in fiery flames. His imposing entry only got him confused glances.

“You! What is your name?!”

Jongho didn’t dare to breathe. Increasingly more worried, Yeosang patted his armoured knee as he watched the spectacle. While Seonghwa seemed ready to protest, Wooyoung carefully motioned him to back down for now. Both tensely held their tongues.

“I think my name is none of your business, hot-head. If your troupe is assembled, then-”

His voice. A familiar voice. Sharper, harsher, but still the same.

Mingi grabbed the man at his collar to shake him as hard as possible in the heavy suit. Warningly, the man reached for his wrists.

“Your name, tell me your damn name!”

“Don’t blow a gasket, what has you so agitated?! I’m Yunho!”

At that, Mingi lurched back as if he had burned his skin. He tumbled back to look at Jongho, but their eyes didn’t meet. Even Yeosang had stiffened from understanding dawning upon him. Like a wooden doll stuck at every movement of its mechanisms, Mingi turned with trembles and hitches overtaking his whole body.

This time, the Bishop followed his line of sight.

All of them looked at Jongho.

Jongho’s stomach lurched, and he couldn’t even warn San before he keeled over to get rid of his lunch. Coughing and choking, he tried to breathe around the gasps of shock that seized him. He presumed this to be a panic attack, something he had never experienced before but that Yeosang had mentioned to him. When his heart wouldn’t stop cramping painfully, he rose his hand to his chest to clutch at it.

Worried, Yeosang’s hands fluttered all over him, and for a moment, he couldn’t hear over the rushing of his ears, didn’t understand a single word they were saying.

His senses returned when metal shrieked, and a big hand settled on his shoulder. Jongho froze abruptly. Like a scared bunny afraid to make a move, all of his muscles locked him in place.

“Jongho?”

The murmur of his name didn’t come from Yeosang and also not from San. None of his friends had this voice, so no other option remained.

Helpless and scared, Jongho rose his eyes to the Bishop.

The relieved smile on the man’s face hit him in the face once more. It was so familiar, so painfully the same. Jongho’s fragile mind clung to it, wanting to believe.

“Are you alright? I’m glad now that I hurried here. Looks as if I saved even more than I thought I would.”

Jongho couldn’t speak. His tongue was no more but a heavy, fleshy muscle in his mouth. As if he had never spoken any language before, he just stared.

Yeosang was the one to aid him in his useless attempts. His deep voice was quiet and soft, just as vulnerable as Jongho felt.

“You… You’re Yunho? You’re the one from the pictures.” Whispering, Yeosang pulled Jongho against his side as if he had to protect him from the Bishop. The man finally took the large hand away.

“And you’re alive,” he added, disbelief and awe bleeding into his voice. Mute, Jongho stared until his vision doubled. No thought crossed his mind. Not a single one.

“I am. And I have lots of explaining to do. But I need time. Can you take care of him?” A gentle smile grazed Yunho’s lips as he looked upon Jongho. As if set back in time, Jongho felt like a little kid again. Suddenly, he was no more than a boy who struggled to get up on chairs and needed to be lifted on them. The boy, who had hidden from thunder under his blankets with Yunho while the older boy soothed his cries. He still remembered the distinct warmth, less so of Yunho’s body himself, but of his affectionate smile and his calming words. Yunho had always been soft-spoken, not a man for war. His jokes and tender reminders that he was there for Jongho carried more love than Jongho had ever experienced.

“Of course. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Yeosang.”

“Thank you, Yeosang.”

With a smile, Yunho stood and turned to nod at Wooyoung, presumably recognising him. San greeted him, too, but they didn’t exchange names. San’s eyes were wary of him.

Then, only Mingi was left for Yunho to look at. Jongho watched their exchange full of wonder. The laughter of the two of them as kids still echoed in his ears like a long lost memory.

“And you are?” Yunho rose his brow Mingi, not losing his smile despite the earlier attack.

“In love, nice to meet you.” Struck, Mingi stared at him as if Yunho’s smile was the sun he prayed to. He even gave him his hand, albeit shaking the Bishop's armour was awkward.

Yunho snickered under his breath. Then, he glanced back down at Jongho. Gentle eyes. Eyes that had seen a lot, but that had overcome all of that and matured. Still, he didn’t miss his typical kindness.

“I’ll explain it all, Jongho, I promise. I won’t go anywhere.” His promise was real. Finally, Jongho managed a weak nod, if only to show he understood.

Yunho swallowed harshly at the simple gesture, and Jongho believed to see tears fill his eyes. They glinted under the lights like precious diamonds.

He had always hated to see Yunho cry. When Yunho cried, then the world was cruel. And Jongho didn’t like it for being cruel to a ray of sunshine such as him.

Yet, he blinked the tears away. As he always did. Then, he stalked off to talk to Seonghwa.


	7. Nostalgia

Jongho couldn’t remove his eyes from Yunho. He followed the movement of his lips around every word he spoke, of every flicker of his eyes through the room. He saw him swallow at worse news and smile hopefully at better ones. Captivated, Jongho forgot everything around him, how he leaned in Yeosang’s arm for support, how his own hands had curled in his lap uselessly, and how Wooyoung had specifically gotten on a nerve-wracking trip to the kitchens to get some bread for him. The treat stood in front of him on the table untouched.

Ever since Yunho had ushered them all in an empty room that the guards used for their breaks to exchange information, Jongho had not moved even a millimetre. He was scared of moving as if Yunho might get startled and run off or disappear in a cloud of smoke.

“So you are the rebels we have heard of. That explains a lot. We didn’t have a clue who you people might be.” Seonghwa’s voice carried respect and appreciation. Grateful and humbled, Yunho smiled at him.

“Just how we didn’t expect you to be alive. We decided to start our operation at the rumour of your death, knowing that it was unjust. But we were overjoyed to hear that you were going to come back and aid us in our battle. I looked forward to meeting you in person, Prince Seonghwa.”

Surprised, Seonghwa rose a brow at him. His fingers played with each other on the table.

“You heard of it? Whoever might have given you that information?”

With a wink, Yunho kept his secretive smile.

“An old friend of mine who helped me through some dark times. I know of what happened to you and what you went into the canyon for. Fear not, that information is safe with me and me only.” Sincere, Yunho glanced at the door. They had left the other two Bishops outside to patrol the corridor. No disturbance had reached them here, and no one in the palace seemed to have noticed a few guards missing from their places.

“We didn’t know that you would be here tonight, though. It was through luck that we stumbled upon your predicament earlier. Luck of fate, it seems.” Yunho’s eyes found Jongho once more. Then, he fixed them back on Seonghwa.

“I have men, quite a few of them. They lurk everywhere. Inside the armours, posing as guards, and ready to breach the palace upon my command. They would be delighted to serve you.”

A murmur went through the group hoarded around the small table. With grim determination, Seonghwa nodded.

“I can use them to de-escalate things. If you wish so, you can join our team to meet with the king. I’m sure you have a lot to tell him.”

“I certainly do. And I can inform my men to be ready to catch the fallout. You shall not worry about your safety.”

Seonghwa leaned back on the bench, satisfied with the fruit of their talk.

“Very well. These three will flee the scene for the time being once the mess starts and return later. Since you belong to them, you may join them if you want.” He motioned over to the huddled forms of San, Mingi, and Jongho. Two of whom were staring at him in awe, while the third one remained unbothered and just curious at the developments.

“I will make use of that. I might become a target, too, once news spread about me, so disappearing might be the best way to go. I can also make sure your team is protected, then. If you will excuse me? I will inform my men of this change of plans and rejoin you here.”

Yunho rose his helmet to his head to hide his identity once more. With a greeting that looked grotesque on his weaponised hands, he left the room. He had to duck in the doorway.

Once the entryway was empty again, thick silence enveloped the men. Jongho felt their eyes on them, tasted their questions on his lips like machine grease.

“Your brother is so, so admirable! I’m so happy that you have him back!” Yeosang’s excited whisper magicked a little smile on his lips. With Yunho gone, he could suddenly move again as if the spell lifted once the man left.

“I never would have guessed… We were told he died in the war three years ago,” Jongho murmured as an explanation for the clueless ones. Understanding, Seonghwa hissed through his teeth.

“I’m dying to ask how he survived. It seems as if he was busy. I’m glad he could hide his identity, and my father didn’t find out about him at that time.”

Yeosang’s fingers rubbed little circles on Jongho’s hip. A gesture that he would normally use on the other man, but Yeosang doing it for him was all the more adorable and doting.

“Me too, yeah… Father would have loved to hear that news.” Jongho trailed off, his thoughts fleeting. He had so much explaining to do for Yunho, just as much as his brother did himself. Maybe they would find time to sit in their home together and drink tea while both recounted their stories. Jongho would love that.

A short silence passed before San brotherly squeezed Jongho’s shoulder. Compassionate smiles filled the room.

“I’m sure he will be open to talking everything through once this is over. Until then, I hope that you two brothers won’t distract each other too much. I would hate to see any of you hurt right now,” Seonghwa pleaded like a worried mother. Jongho chuckled at him, pretending he didn’t see the glance that Wooyoung sneaked at San. Caught in the act.

“I’ll take care, Seonghwa. Currently, my spring is wound, but my hands aren’t moving anyway. And once it’s time, that will come in handy.”

The prince gave him a graceful smile before he turned to the newly opened door. For a moment, they all were tense and ready to attack if this Bishop that looked just the same as all the other ones chose to attack. However, Yunho’s voice travelled through the thick metal to them.

“It’s all taken care of. I’m ready to go whenever you are.”

For a moment, they exchanged glances to check if there was something to do still. Steely determination painted all of their faces with the symbols of resilience and courage. No words needed to be spoken, they all had their reason to be here, and none of them would take the cowardly route out of this.

No more than a few passageways divided them from the king. The key to all of their questions. The reason for centuries of suffering, famine, and sickness. A single person with such a grand role.

A fire burned in Seonghwa’s eyes as he beckoned them to go. With their eyes set on their goal, the men filtered out of the room to reorientate themselves. The bits of blood that had flown in the fight earlier blended with the carpet and barely left a stain. It blended with the ground from which the palace and the king’s might grew. A carpet made of blood and the deaths of countless people.

Seonghwa led them to the king’s quarters. The few more guards that they met mostly let them pass since they were with a group of Bishops, and they assumed them to be guests. Only a few got suspicious, and the group made quick work of them. They left their bodies in the adjoining rooms to wake up later or be found once this mess was over.

In the few minutes of relative peace they had, as they walked the corridors leading up to the large double-winged doors, Jongho found himself walking next to Yunho. His senses never left their surroundings, but his voice was directed at his brother.

“How have you been all this time?”

One of Yunho’s men shot the guards in front of the door. Now, it didn’t matter anymore. Now, they had nothing to lose. Nobody would pass these halls for a while until the servants arrived with more food, and nobody would find the corpses until then. In that time, they could get rid of the king and flee into the skies.

“There have been good days and bad days. Lots of work and little time to rest. I missed you every day, though.” As hollow as his voice sounded in the helmet, Jongho knew that Yunho was seized by emotions just as he was. Gulping, he looked up ahead. The mighty door in front of them protruded into the sky like the gates to heaven itself. The wood was white and heavy with golden ornaments that depicted two Spheres, the symbol of the Kingdom of Asorazey. What irony.

“I missed you a lot, too. We all did.”

“How’s mum?”

Jongho stayed silent at the question. His eyes were trained on Seonghwa’s back as the prince led them with firm steps and a grim expression on his face.

“She left. Dad did as well a few weeks ago. I hope they are happier wherever they are now. No more pain. No more suffering.”

When Jongho felt Yeosang gingerly reach for his hand, he immediately took it. The librarian held on to calm both of their tense nerves. Jongho’s stomach knotted up all over again.

“I’m sure both of them would have loved to see us succeed today. Who knows, they might be watching somewhere.” Yunho’s armour clanked loudly at every step, and the other three automatons around them created a cacophony of screeching metal and heavy steps that Jongho by now associated with certain doom. Today, however, it didn’t mean doom for him and his friends. It meant doom to the very man that allowed them to gather their strength.

“It must have been hard for you. Thank you for taking good care of them,” Yunho added gently. Fresh tears clouded Jongho’s vision, and a lump got stuck in his throat. If only they had been a bit faster. Just a bit. His father might have lived to see both of his sons return home.

Blinking, he looked up at the far ceiling. Symmetrically sorted ancients in the colours of their kingdom hung from it. The crests all showed the mighty castle of Asora. Jongho forced back a bitter laugh that threatened to bubble from his throat.

“I hope to make it up to them by doing this. So that no other person has to suffer through the same.” Resolute, Jongho faced the doors again. Yeosang squeezed his gloved hand gently.

Yunho didn’t comment on that, but Jongho knew without asking that the man agreed. Three years could feel like an eternity of missing someone, but time had also passed so fast. Yunho was still the same, even if scarred from war and his struggle to stay alive. But he had returned, and he wouldn’t go anywhere from now on. Jongho had a family to look forward to being with once more. Something worth living for. Yunho, and also Yeosang.

His gaze found the pretty librarian when they halted in front of the doors so Seonghwa could quickly check on the map again. Yeosang looked pale and tense, but his bravery outweighed his fear. In the minute of standing still, Jongho pulled Yeosang into his arms gently. Surprised by the sudden action, Yeosang shyly buried his head in Jongho’s chest.

“If you get scared inside there… You can hide behind me. Don’t feel as if you need to face your fears just to prove yourself. We are a team, and we are ready to protect you. No need for more damage.” Jongho paid attention not to press his brass gear too much against his lover to avoid any discomfort. Humming, Yeosang breathed in his scent that had to be of machine oil and metal mostly.

“I appreciate that. But I always felt as if I needed to face him to get closure. If only this one last time. I can do that.” He rose his head to look at Jongho without moving back. Their faces were inches apart, and his pink lips looked so inviting. Jongho withstood the need to kiss all his sorrows away. This was neither the time nor the place for that.

“You’re a strong gentleman, Yeosang. I’m sure that you will win this battle.” Smiling underneath his mask, Jongho stepped back to release the man from his grip. He was right in time to catch Mingi staring at Yunho curiously.

“What, you want one of the suits, too?”

“Huh? Oh, ah, yeah! Blimey, these things really bang up to the elephant! If we all had them as we went in, then we would win, no doubt!”

Yunho chuckled through his helmet. The action had Mingi’s eyes widen.

“And also be too slow to escape. I might have to get out of this to run.” Chunky, his fist knocked against the torso if his suit. Mingi looked excited at the prospect, and Jongho also liked the idea. The armour separated him and Yunho, kept him in the role of a rebel when Jongho just wanted him as his brother.

Seonghwa’s quiet call brought their attention back to him.

“Then, gentlemen, are we ready to go?”

Nodding, they grouped around him. With a last deep breath, Seonghwa used both hands to push the grand doors open and led them in the throne room.


	8. 8. The King of Asora

Jongho swept his eyes through the grand hall without letting his eyes dwell on any details for too long. The size of the room was bigger than anything Jongho had ever seen, nearly as big as a whole airship dock. It had to take up most of the second floor and spread out mostly emptily over dozens of steps. Even more waste was the lack of furniture or anything of use. The throne room was nothing more than exactly what its name supplied. A room with a throne backed up against the window front. Several polished marble steps laid up to the slightly elevated platform that rose the throne above anybody who stepped into the room. The sole person to overlook the average folk was the king, and he sat on his throne even now.

Having seen the horrific drawing Yeosang had made of this very man, Jongho at least had an idea of what to expect. The scary mixture of man and machine that hung on the chair in front of them like a lifeless glob of flesh that had been meant to rot long ago already came to no surprise. He still startled at the eyes that met them. Black and small like the sharp pebbles Jongho sometimes got into his shoes; they stood out from a pasty and round face. They radiated pure evil and looked far more awake and able than the rest of his sunken form.

His face was surrounded by the metal wires that Jongho had noticed already. They roped down his bald head to disappear behind the throne like grotesque strands of hair. Their weight pulled his skin oddly stiff, smoothing out some wrinkles but making the face look as if stretched on a metal globe. In turn, his eyes bulged slightly out of his head. They didn't have enough space to sink into their sockets.

The king had a human chest dressed in expensive red velvet that probably cost as much as six months worth of food for Jongho. One of the hands that had settled on the armrest was human, the other one nothing but a metal skeleton that barely resembled a hand. Spindly like the legs of a spider, it had settled on the cushion beneath his arm and gripped onto it with sharp fingertips. Jongho bet they could be used to slice open skin if so needed.

Since he had a blanket in his lap, Jongho couldn’t see more, but he also didn’t detect the shadow of legs underneath the heavy fabric. The Undying was indeed no more but a human heart and a brain supported by machines that held him up like a metal cage.

His button eyes focused on them and swept along their ranks without much interest. They got stuck on Seonghwa, however. If his mood changed when he recognised his dead son, then he didn’t show it. With rattling breaths, he remained just where he was and merely inclined his head. The cables attached to him shifted with the movement.

“How can it be… I received affirmation that you died, dear son of mine. What a horrible, terrible accident.” The voice coming from the king sounded like a cat’s claws scratching over wood. Raspy and hitching now and then, and clearly creating pain for the owner. Jongho shifted on his feet uncomfortably. He still held Yeosang’s hand behind their backs to soothe the man’s tremors. Finally, he understood what made the king so eerily creepy. His very being and everything that came with it brought horror beyond Jongho’s comfort. Pictures of wild demons and odd creatures that ate humans in art were one thing. But this man was very real, and his fight against death had made him into a monster so scary that Jongho would have troubles getting rid of his image in his mind.

Before Seonghwa got to bite out an answer, the king’s eyes caught onto Yeosang. From this distance, Jongho also felt stared at, and those eyes seemed to bore into him like a nail penetrating flesh. It ripped into his very soul to lay bare his secrets and scoff about them. That king had no interest or sympathy. The blackness of his soul mirrored in his very eyes.

“You… I can’t remember summoning you. You know you aren’t allowed in the main building. What had the guards get you two and a crowd of… street rats in here?” The disdain in the king’s voice had Jongho tighten his grip on Yeosang in anger. Shivering, the librarian leaned into him more. His every muscle was tensed as if ready to run at any given moment. The fear in his body was palpable in the air, and Jongho did his best to soothe him.

Just what might that meeting in the past have been? The one where Yeosang had spent enough time here to draw the man only to get angry enough to scratch him out of the book while precious tears dripped from his innocent eyes?

Seonghwa was the only member of their group who dared to face the king directly. All this time, he had to deal with this monster of a man, and he never gave in, despite all the horrible truths he learnt. Jongho was deeply impressed with him. Since he had never seen the king before and only heard myths about him that the shadows of Zey whispered in the narrow alleys, he hadn’t fathomed this much evil to ooze from the man like black oil.

“We came to end this! I found out everything, and we prepared to change this era of tyranny!” Tense, Seonghwa gesticulated towards the group. Still, he didn’t dare to venture closer to their enemy yet. Jongho felt Wooyoung shift uncomfortably next to him. As if out of reflex, San’s hand settled on his back to share his warmth with the guard. Wooyoung leaned into the touch unconsciously. The uncomfortable atmosphere around the king hung thick in the group like stubborn fog.

“End this? Oh, Seonghwa… Aren’t you a little dreamer. I always told you to stop dreaming. You are nothing special. Nobody of grand importance. Your plans to change the world for a better place are hallucinatory fantasies. Did you think you would get a bunch of friends like the heroes in those novels you enjoy reading and overthrow the evil government?” A thunderous laugh came from the colourless lips of the king. “Foolish son of mine. I thought I had taught you how the world worked, but it seems as if I failed. This world is a dark place. Not the utopia you dream of.”

Jongho held his breath when Seonghwa’s face darkened further. He motioned the automatons to advance and surround the king. Anonymous and wordless, Yunho and his men did as they were told. All of their weapons were pointed at the old king, who looked amused, if anything. He didn’t feel threatened, and his apathetic reaction had a skilamalink fear coil in Jongho’s belly. They should hurry. Any second that passed in the oddly quiet room with this man still alive was a waste of time.

“We are both repeating ourselves. I will show you just how much better it can be without you. Jongho. The core.”

When summoned, Jongho stepped forward to produce the large object from his bag. As they fiddled with it, Mingi remained protectively by Yeosang’s side. Again, the king’s eyes found the trembling boy.

“You still live. I thought you had rotted long ago, just like your whore mother. I honestly didn’t expect to see you again.”

Worried, both Seonghwa and Jongho glanced at Yeosang. The man in question had balled his hands into fists and bit his lips to stop the tears in his eyes from spilling over. Mingi attempted to reach for his pitiful form, but the librarian shook his head. His teeth dug in his lip hard enough to draw blood nearly, and Jongho wanted to soothe him once more and caress the worries away from him.

Jongho directed his stare back at the king, colder now. As intimidated as he had been before, now his heart froze over with icy hatred again. This was the man. The man who had attempted to kill Seonghwa, who made Yeosang’s life a living hell, and was responsible for the loss of Jongho’s family. The man who had sunk Zey into sorrow.

“Watch your mouth, gibface. He might be too polite to retort, but I won’t hesitate to stab a bastard when I see one,” Jongho growled at the king without an ounce of fear. For a moment, the man looked flabbergasted before a rough giggle nearly sent him into a coughing fit. In their heads, they all wished for him to choke. Moments later, he regained his breath and lowered his mirthful gaze at the group of men on the level below him.

“Oh, you got yourself a little watchdog. What a dirty mutt, though, with a dirty mouth. I expected more from you, but it seems as if your mother’s side is stronger in you.”

At that, Jongho pushed the core against Seonghwa’s chest and reached for his belt. His knife snapped open sinisterly when he flipped it in his hand to be able to use his full force stabbing down. Nobody stopped him when he advanced in the king’s direction. Whether he died first, and they used the power afterwards or let him die because they disconnected the power from him didn’t play any role of importance. This man would die today, and if Jongho were the one to stab him, nobody would keep him from that. All of them had their fury they wanted to act upon, but Jongho would bring closure to all of them.

“Yeah, it might be. His mother also settled for a dirty mutt. The difference is that Yeosang actually loves me.” His petty fight aided none of them, and his rage fuelled only further when he was ignored once more. Despite being the one to have started their childish tug-of-war, the king practised nonchalance at Jongho’s stab.

“Ah, Yeosang. Right. That is the name she gave you. I already forgot.”

Jongho reached the steps to the throne, and for the first time, the king looked at him. His eyes were full of disgust as if he were looking at vile vermin. A bitter smile formed on Jongho’s lips, hidden by the mask.

“You guards, aren’t you going to remove that scum? He stinks up the whole place.” The king scrunched his nose and averted his eyes as if he couldn’t bear looking at Jongho. Hot and sweet like a dangerous treat, the anger inside Jongho bubbled over.

“Stab him, Jongho. You have my permission,” Seonghwa called from further behind. Without another second of hesitation, Jongho jumped up the stairs taking two at a time. The king had time only for a fraction of a second to recognise the seriousness of the situation. Then, his eyes widened when Jongho rammed the knife into his chest. It met metal, jarring alongside it with a screech that let every cell in Jongho’s body curl up. It also penetrated the soft flesh of the man, though, so he counted it as a win.

“Bastard. Think in hell about just what you did to the people in this country.” For good measure, Jongho twisted the knife. The blood that spilt out on his fingers and made his grip on the knife slippery was scare and barely enough to announce a real injury. At the king’s cough, he knew the injury to be bad, however.

“Imbeciles, all of you. I’ll let you people rot in hell for this.” With those words, he let his head fall against the backrest of his chair. His eyes fluttered even when the blaring of an alarm sounded promptly and so loud that Jongho had to press his hands on his ears to protect them from harm. When he retreated from the heaving king, he nearly toppled down the stairs. As he turned to check where he was going, he found that the automatons had turned to the large double doors to stare at them tensely. Seonghwa just picked up the sphere from the ground after he must have dropped it.

Then, like a flood dawning upon them, the gates of the throne room opened. Soldiers streamed in, trained men as well as possibly a hoard of automatons who slowly moved around their metal steps. Gradually, they flooded the room to point their weapons at the group and yell orders at each other to make sure the king was alright.

The team of Jongho’s friends backed up in his direction, and Yunho and his friends formed a protective barrier. Disheartened by the number of guns pointed at them, Jongho glanced at the windows.

Hongjoong was nowhere in sight. They had been cut off from their escape path.


	9. Shatter Me

Enemies, wherever Jongho directed his eyes. They crawled through the entrance, through the two other doors in the room and spread out in the place like spilt liquid. All of them looked defensive and ready to shield the king that made their lives a living hell. For their own protection, most likely. They wouldn’t want to get on his bad side if he were to survive this encounter and regain his power. Jongho wanted to scoff at their lack of integrity and a backbone. They were nothing but a bunch of meaters under the rule of a cruel dictator.

With two long steps, Seonghwa jumped up the stairs and ripped the knife from his father’s chest. Choking, the old king spat some blood over Seonghwa’s clothes. The knife found his neck, resting there threateningly.

“No wrong move! Any step I see you make is an inch closer to ending the king’s life!”

“Prince Seonghwa, are you out of your mind? Please come here and explain to us you only just reappeared!” One of the guards desperately called out to him, but he couldn’t garner Seonghwa’s sympathy.

“I won’t! And I expect every single one of you to reconsider where you stand currently once we resolve this matter. Redirect the power, Jongho.”

“Yes, Sir,” the mechanic muttered under his breath. Gleeful that he would be the one to end the struggle of two centuries and fulfil the legacy that his father had always wished for, he sprung from the platform to round the throne. However, before he could reach for the cables, a big shadow fell upon him and darkened the room.

Worried but in awe, the puzzled soldiers, as well as the desperate group of rebels, stared at the huge distorted silhouette that appeared behind the milky windows. It darkened out the colourful panels, and Jongho stepped further back from the glass to let it pass.

A little cracking sound was all the warning they got.

Jongho threw himself around in time, his arm reaching out to take the nearest person down with him. A surprised sound escaped San when they hit the ground together a mere moment before the glass wall shattered above them. The noise boomed through the hall loud enough to be heard through all of Asora, most likely, and Jongho kept his head down when a rain of shards came down on him. One of his arms protected San’s neck, the other one his own, as they pressed flatly against the cold marble.

The crunch of stone also set off an alarm bell in Jongho’s head, and as soon as the deadly rain had passed them, he carefully turned his head to glimpse at the windows. Glass tumbled from his hair.

The once reflective wall that had thrown a colourful shine over the nearby roofs of Asora had disappeared. No piece was left under the impact of the airship crashing into it. Aside from the glass, the throne was gone, too. And with it, the king. Once the dust had settled, Jongho expected to find him as a red stain between the pulverised marble stairs, but he was nowhere in sight. Lifeless, the bunch of cables hung from the floor.

Slowly, the room came back to life. San stood carefully to dust his pants off, and Jongho also removed a shard from his arm that had slit through his sleeve. The automatons were the only ones still standing stiffly. Still, Jongho rested alleviated by the sight of Yeosang behind whom he assumed to be Yunho who had protected him with his whole body.

Before the court servants regained their senses, a person swung down from the familiar ship. His blue hair swished in the cold winter air that his arrival had brought as a pair of mechanical wings unfolded behind his back. Jongho’s eyes lit up in wonder when the wind picked up through the canvas that stretched between the metal fingers that crossed it and let the man glide on it as if he belonged there. Heavy boots hit the ground and crunched audibly on the glass when he descended without bothering to take his goggles off. Then, he ran over to the throne he had rammed.

Jongho could spy a blood-covered hand between the rubble where only one person had been standing earlier. A hole that led to the lower floor had punched through the ground where the airship had connected with it, and Seonghwa hung precariously over the edge when Hongjoong reached him.

“Quick, gather your senses. We need to get out of here. The alarm that he sounded alerted all the Spheres and Bishops nearby, and they are out for blood. We will return later.” The order came squeezed from between his teeth as he slung Seonghwa’s arm around his shoulders. Blinking blearily, the prince stumbled along with him. Hongjoong’s wings carried both of their weight as he brought Seonghwa to safety first.

Icy air permeated the room and had the humans shiver. The dust around the impact spot danced in the light of the impending sun. Its rays were still too cold to warm up anything.

Jongho glanced at Wooyoung, who had also sustained minor injuries.

“We can return! The king probably won’t make this attack, and we can wait out the worst! Let’s come back in a few days!” With that, he followed Mingi, who showed him how to jump the nets beneath the _Puppeteer_ that allowed them to scale the ship.

San also ran off before anybody had the ability to reach for their weapons. He passed Mingi, who overviewed the process and jumped up the ship with slightly less grace than usual since he was still shaken up. The swift procession of events had Jongho’s mind reeling, too, so he concentrated on the moment and the orders he was given.

Yeosang quickly helped Yunho with the hatches of his armour to let him step out of it. Like a bunch of disconnected metal, the suit fell into a heap as Yunho appeared in his full human glory. Even yet, he was far taller than Yeosang. His body was dressed in thin pants and a shirt that both had matching dull browns.

When Jongho motioned them over, they ran quickly as the few companions Yunho had brought mixed with the enemies inconspicuously. They would be their ticket back. Yeosang scaled the nets first and with shaky fingers, and Jongho was right behind him to catch him in case he fell. Just when he pushed the man’s trembling legs over the railing of the ship and Yunho jumped to follow through the rubble, voices got loud beneath them. The wind pulled on Jongho, and the machinery above him was so loud that he nearly didn’t hear the words.

“Hurry! The savages are fleeing, and they are taking the prince with them!”

Jongho jumped the railing. Beneath him, Yunho stretched out a hand towards Mingi when Hongjoong already kicked his ship into action. They lifted off the side of the palace walls, and more debris tumbled into the city below them.

“Take my hand!”

Without a second of hesitation, Mingi did. For a moment, he dangled in the air dangerously when he lost contact with the ground, and only Yunho held him up.

Then, his loud yowl had Jongho’s blood run cold. The first shot that had been fired beneath them hit his leg. Immediately, he lost tension in his body and began to slip from Yunho’s grasp.

Yunho and Jongho called out for him at the same time.

“No, hold on! Come on!”

Hectic, Jongho whipped his head around to call out for Hongjoong to help. But in the mess of people and equipment, he couldn’t find the man.

Mingi groaned, blood dripping from his limp leg. Decidedly, Jongho lifted his foot over the railing to lower himself on the net himself to help the man. Before he could endanger all three of them with his added weight and swaying, however, a shining shadow whizzed past him. With powerful flaps of his wings that carried him wherever he wanted, Hongjoong appeared behind Mingi to pick him up. Both grimaced at the struggle, but they made it over the railing safely to crash down in a heap. Jongho pulled Yunho up and on board with them before he turned to his red-haired friend.

For his duties, Hongjoong skittered off immediately, but Wooyoung and Jongho found themselves kneeling at Mingi’s side while the man clutched his leg. His hisses were low, reduced when he gasped for air, but Jongho viewed his vocal complains as a good sign. As long as he screamed, the flame of life would mend his wounds.

Yunho gently pushed Jongho aside when he just hovered above his friend helplessly. He ripped off the tattered leg of Mingi’s pants to reveal the damage to the open air. Then, he wrapped the same piece around his tanned thigh to cut off the blood flow. All the time, Yunho’s fingers acted swift and familiar with the ways of dressing up wounds.

Mingi’s calf was a mess of blood and ripped flesh, but his leg was still attached, at least. In the depths of the gaping hole that had blood oozing from it at rapid speed, Jongho also couldn’t detect a bullet. It had been probably one of the automatons that had shot him. Pneumatic hits ripped flesh apart, but at least they carried no foreign metal that could infiltrate the body and cause infections.

“It’s fine; you’ll be fine.” Yunho reached for a rag he found lying around on Hongjoong’s deck. He pressed it against the wound with enough strength to have his fingers turn white. They stained with blood the more it seeped through the fabric.

“Mingi, are you with us? How do you feel?”

Mingi rolled his eyes back as he grit his teeth through the pain. Once he regained control of his features, he breathed out a harsh blow of air.

“That was their revenge for dismantling their friends. Zounds, that hurts. Everybody else is good?”

Jongho’s eyes searched the ship that was still in disarray. People hurried around everywhere, and nobody could spare them even a glance. He assumed that Yeosang took care of Seonghwa somewhere. When Wooyoung handed Mingi a can of alcohol one of the crew members had gotten him to numb the pain, he chugged it down at the speed of lightning. His head thudded against the wooden boards as he soon relaxed.

“I hope so. Everybody made it up.”

Relieved at that news, Mingi clenched his eyes shut to school his expression. Low hisses tumbled from him from time to time still as Yunho received bandages and began dressing the wound. Wooyoung helped Yunho with adjusting his leg when needed while Jongho fed him more booze. After a few more minutes, it began to work its magic, and Mingi relaxed more against the floor as his eyes fluttered open again. This time, they carried less pain, even when they still knelt in a pool of his blood.

“Still in pain?” Yunho had rolled up his sleeves so they wouldn’t be in the way. His forearms were bathed in drying blood that stuck to him and smelt like metal, but he didn’t mind it.

“He’s very arf’arf’an’arf,” Jongho muttered. Weak, Mingi waved around his hand to underline how fine he was.

“I feel lightning struck, but wonderful anyway! Nothing to worry about!” His voice slurred around the ends of his sentences, but he indeed looked as if he had fun. Jongho allowed himself a softened sigh. Then, he patted Mingi’s shoulder comfortingly.

“Also, hey Jongho, don’t tell him, but your brother is really hot when he patches up wounds. Is there anything that man can’t do?”

Jongho exchanged an amused glance with Yunho, who had merely sat back but remained right next to him. Both of their expressions mirrored each other’s fondness. Mingi’s blubbering lifted their anxious mood back up and allowed them to rest with the gradually calming ship.

“Damfino, I think he can do anything. Aren’t you crushing very hard, very quickly?”

Mingi’s eyes fluttered again when sleep pulled him under. A dopey smile on his lips was the last they saw of him.

“No, my dearest chuckaboo. I fell for your stories of him already a long time ago.” With a last giggle, he quietened. Peacefully sleeping, he laid on the deck without a disturbance in the world. Jongho slipped out of his jacket to cover him with it. They sailed right into a starry night, and it would probably get cold soon.

Once their situation had calmed, they had time to look around the ship again. Hushed whispers of fear and concerns about the circumstances passed the crew members, and Hongjoong had already bent over some maps again. Their fight was not over yet; they hadn’t reached their goal. Jongho spotted the energy core decorating a corner of the deck uselessly.

When he rose, he offered Yunho his hand. With a glance at his bloodied palms, Yunho smiled crookedly before he stood by himself.

They joined Hongjoong to go over the plan one more time.


End file.
